But it struck him that people are not really dead until they are felt to be dead. As long as there is some misunderstanding about them, they possess a sort of immortality.
God is not Love in the East. He is Power, although Mercy may temper it.
Love is always being given where it is not required.
History develops, art stands still.
But the body is deeper than the soul and its secrets inscrutable.
It is pleasant to be transferred from an office where one is afraid of a sergeant-major into an office where one can intimidate generals, and perhaps this is why history is so attractive to the more timid among us. We can recover self-confidence by snubbing the dead.